Here goes nothing:
It would not be erroneous to name the city; it would be erroneous to name the city once. No single nomenclature could easily be stretched to encapsulate somewhere so spanning in size, so shifting in temperament. Its gardens and ghettos, monuments and markets were seemingly immune; each bore one title universally consented-to but, alas, the overall city itself, the firmament onto which each neighborhood sparkled like so many stars, eluded any such singularity. Its millions of denizens each referred to it independently and thus, the continent-sized urbanity acquired the closest approximation to a name it would ever hold; Thousand-Name Town.
Come back tomorrow for more!
(P.S. I promised I'd complain about John Scalzi: I don't like John Scalzi or his books, in particular Old Man's War and/or Redshirts.)